


Lesson Learned

by LibraryMage



Series: Break Your Chains [7]
Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Autistic Character, Autistic Ezra Bridger, Child Abuse, Gen, Past Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2017-09-12
Packaged: 2018-12-26 20:58:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12066870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LibraryMage/pseuds/LibraryMage
Summary: Ezra was ten when he killed someone for the first time.  Kanan never realized it had started that early.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for: death of unnamed characters, a child being forced to kill someone, child abuse, torture of a child, forced sensory deprivation, restraint and seclusion of a child, mention of broken bones

Ezra sat on the floor, the lights as dim as he could make them without turning them off.  He was softly biting down on the base of his thumb as he tried to decompress his tightly-wound brain.  Saber training had been intense that day.  The better Ezra got, the harder Maul was on him, pushing him farther every day.  Some days, it pushed Ezra to the point of near-shutdown and he had to hide himself away in his room when they were done for the day.  Luckily for him, Maul didn’t seem to care.  As long as Ezra did what he was told when he was told to do it, he was mostly left to himself outside of training.

Ezra hugged his knees to his chest and leaned his forehead on them, closing his eyes for a moment.  He was jolted out of his moment of calm by the sound of the door opening.  Ezra looked up to see Maul standing in the doorway, surveying him, judging whether Ezra was in a state where he’d even be able to follow his master’s orders.  Slowly, Ezra nodded, silently indicating that he would.

“Come with me,” Maul said.

Ezra stood and followed his master down one of the dark corridors of the old base, trying to quell the anxiety that raced through his chest like mice scattering when a light was turned on.  His master’s lack of any kind of explanation told Ezra he was about to be tested in some way.  And a test almost always meant pain, whether as part of the test itself or as punishment for failing it.

“Wait here,” Maul said as he led Ezra through a door into a dark, cavernous room.  Ezra stayed where he was as Maul walked toward a door on the far end of the room.  He kept his guard up, watching and feeling for any signs of danger, knowing it was entirely possible Maul would turn back and attack him without warning.

But as Ezra watched, Maul disappeared through the other door.  The scurrying feeling in Ezra’s chest grew more frantic in spite of his efforts to quiet it.  The door opened again and Ezra braced himself, only to see Maul returning, dragging something behind him.  He crossed the room and shoved the shaking figure to the floor at Ezra’s feet.  It was a human man.  His armor was gone, but what he was wearing was clearly an Imperial military uniform.  His hands were cuffed behind his back.  He seemed to be just barely clinging to consciousness.  Ezra looked up at his master in confusion.

“Kill him,” Maul said.

Ezra looked back down at the man and his breath caught in his throat.

“Who is he?” Ezra asked.

“Does that matter?” Maul asked him.  When Ezra hesitated to answer, he continued speaking.  “He is a soldier of the Empire,” he said.  “That should be enough for you.  Now…”

Ezra stared down at the man in front of him, cuffed, helpless, barely able to summon the strength to fix Ezra with that disdainful, defiant glare.  Slowly, he reached for his lightsaber, gripping the weapon tightly to try and hide the fact that his hand was shaking.

“Do it, Ezra,” Maul said, his voice low, carrying just the slightest hint of a threat.

Ezra looked back up at Maul.  “I -- he’s --” Ezra stammered, trying to speak around the static in his head.

Maul circled around the Imperial, toward Ezra.  One hand closed around the back of Ezra’s neck, forcing him to look down at the man in front of him.

“He is an Imperial soldier,” Maul hissed.  “He fights for the Empire.  He _kills_ for the Empire.  He is your enemy.  Remember what they did to you, Ezra.  _This_ is your first act of revenge for everything they took from you.”

Maul released his grip on Ezra’s neck and took a step back as Ezra ignited his lightsaber, the action quick and almost automatic.  But as he raised the blade, Ezra froze again.  The man saw his chance and took it.

“Kid,” he said, his voice weak, “you don’t --”  He was cut off as Maul reached out through the Force, taking hold of his throat, choking off his words.

Ezra jumped as Maul placed a hand on his shoulder.

“You’ve earned this, Ezra,” he said softly.  “You have suffered so much because of the Empire.  _They_ are the reason you were abandoned, _they_ forced you to fight to survive.”

He released the man, who was left slumped on the floor, gasping for air.  Ezra felt Maul’s grip on his shoulder tighten, going from encouraging to threatening in one small motion.

“Kill him, apprentice,” Maul said.

Ezra knew Maul was right.  He _had_ earned this.  The Empire had killed his parents, left him, a helpless, defenseless child, to fend for himself, taken his home and the only people who had ever cared about him away.  What was one soldier compared to that?  And how many children had this man left as orphans?

Ezra wrenched himself out of Maul’s grip and brought his lightsaber down, thrusting the blade through the Imperial soldier’s chest, directly into his heart.  As the man went limp, his eyes still open, staring blankly into nothingness, Ezra switched the blade off.  He was shaking as he hung the weapon on his belt.  He turned to face Maul, who looked back at him with an icy stare that made Ezra’s stomach drop.

“You hesitated,” Maul said.  Ezra’s fear froze him where he stood.

“He was helpless,” Ezra said, barely able to get the words out through the fear that choked him like a rope around his neck.

Maul pushed one hand out, throwing Ezra backward.  As Ezra fell to the floor, he angled himself so he would land on his side, saving himself from hurting his spine on impact.  As Maul stalked toward him, Ezra reached for his lightsaber, only for it to be pulled away into Maul’s hand.

“If you had frozen up like that in a fight against an armed opponent, you would be dead now,” Maul said.  One of his metal feet slammed into Ezra’s stomach.

“He wasn’t --”

Another blow to Ezra’s stomach cut off his words.

“Do you know what the point of this test was?” Maul asked.  He paced around Ezra like a bird of prey about to strike as the boy slowly sat up.  Without waiting for a response, he kept speaking.  “It was to see if you were capable of taking a life at all.  If you were too afraid to kill a man who was half-dead already, how can you stand up to a real opponent?  How will you _ever_ stand a chance against the Sith?”

“I wasn’t afraid,” Ezra growled.

“So what was it?” Maul asked, the fury in his voice cutting into Ezra like a knife.  “Compassion?  For an Imperial soldier?  Some attempt at mercy?  You couldn’t kill an unarmed being?”

Ezra didn’t answer.  He didn’t have to.  He _hadn’t_ wanted to kill someone who couldn’t fight back.  At least, he hadn’t at first.  And Maul knew it.

Maul stopped in front of Ezra, who slowly lifted his gaze from the floor.  He looked up at his master, trying to gauge what his next action would be.  Whatever it was, Ezra might not be able to stop it, but he could at least be prepared for it.

Maul seized Ezra by the hair, dragging him to his feet.  As Ezra stood, Maul’s open hand struck his face.  Ezra gasped as Maul’s fist slammed into his stomach twice.  Maul released his grip on Ezra and pushed through the Force.  Ezra, still reeling from the blows, was caught off guard as he was thrown back against the wall, only to be pulled forward again and thrown to the ground at his master’s feet.

Instinct took over and Ezra tried to move, forcing himself to crawl backwards, away from Maul.  He was barely able to move before one of the Zabrak’s metal feet came down heavily on his hand.  Ezra cried out as he heard a _snap_ and felt the stabbing pain of a broken bone.

Maul reached out through the Force, grabbing hold of Ezra and pulling him off the ground.  He threw the boy again, slamming him against the wall, where he remained pinned.  Ezra’s heart hammered as Maul walked toward him, his lightsaber in his hand.  He activated one of the blades and Ezra instinctively fought to break free, only for the invisible grip on him to grow tighter.  Maul held the tip of the red blade at Ezra’s throat and Ezra froze rather than risk hurting himself in his struggle.

“Mercy is a lie,” Maul said.  “A delusion of the weak to think themselves strong.”  He moved the blade a hair’s width closer to Ezra’s neck.  Ezra could feel the heat searing his skin.  “Do you understand me, apprentice?”

“Yes,” Ezra said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Say it,” Maul hissed.

“Mercy is a lie.”

“And what are you?”

“Weak,” Ezra said.  “I’m weak.”

Maul switched the lightsaber off and released Ezra.  As his feet hit the floor, Ezra felt relief flood over him.  That feeling was short-lived and evaporated when Maul grabbed his wrist, gripping it tight in his hand.

He led Ezra through the door he had dragged the now-dead man through.  Ezra’s heart leapt into his throat as he realized where they were going.  Maul led him down a hall, past a row of cells that had gone unused since the days when the base had been operation.  There was only one that was still in regular use, and Ezra knew that was where Maul was taking him.

As Maul led him to the cell door, Ezra’s panic grew and he tried to pull away from Maul’s grip, digging his heels against the floor.

“No!” he said frantically.  “Please!”

Maul pushed him into the cell, ignoring his cries.  Ezra shrank back only to find himself backing straight into Maul, who gripped both of Ezra’s upper arms tightly.

“Don’t make this harder on yourself,” he said.

Ezra tried not to move, but Maul was much stronger than him and easily pushed him forward toward the metal table.  Ezra was pulled off the ground and slammed backwards onto the table.  He fought to sit up, but Maul held his arms down and restraints closed over his wrists.  Ezra immediately went still.  He’d found out the hard way the first time he’d been locked in this cell that the restraints were programed to shock him if he struggled too much.  He felt something lock around his ankles and another restraint closed over his chest.

“Don’t!” Ezra said, looking up at his master.  Ignoring Ezra’s plea, Maul turned and left the cell.  As the door closed behind him, Ezra was plunged into darkness.

The cell was built for complete sensory deprivation.  Ezra couldn’t hear anything from outside the cell, and once he was sealed in, every sound inside, even the sound of his own breathing, was absorbed by the walls around him.  The darkness was complete, leaving Ezra unable to see anything.  The air was still, so there was nothing to feel but the restraints holding him down and the ache in his body caused by them and whatever injuries he’d gotten before he was locked up.

Ezra drew in a deep, shaking breath as he tried to reign in his panic before it got out of control and he found himself pulling at the restraints and getting shocked for it.  In some ways, sensory deprivation was worse than overload.  Still, he thought, he’d gotten lucky this time.  At least Maul had just restrained him.  Once, he’d been locked in the cell with his wrists bound above his head, forced to stand on his toes for hours before he was let out.

As Ezra lay there, surrounded by crushing, empty darkness, he couldn’t help but think about how he had gotten there.  He’d hesitated, and he didn’t understand why.  The Empire had killed his parents for telling the truth and trying to help people.  He had spent two years alone on the street, constantly afraid, desperately scrambling to survive, never knowing if any given day would be the day he’d be abducted or arrested or killed, all because of the Empire.  Anyone who willingly fought for them was his enemy, and whether they could defend themselves or not didn’t change that.

His master was right.  He _had_ been weak.

Still, he’d done it, in the end.  He had killed that man and, despite his hesitation, as the red blade pierced the soldier’s heart, Ezra had felt a spark in his chest, a brief, momentary thrill.  Maul was right.  This was his first act of vengeance against the Empire.  But it wasn’t enough.  That spark had faded just as quickly as it had appeared, leaving Ezra feeling somehow emptier than he had felt before.

But even with that emptiness, he felt different.  It was like something had taken root inside him, and he didn’t know what it was.  Something about him had changed.

* * *

 

Ezra had no way of knowing exactly how long he was in the cell, but by adding up the seconds he’d counted in his head in between moments of panic, he knew he had been locked up for well over four hours before his master returned.

As the door opened, Ezra had to shut his eyes.  Even the minimal light from the corridor burned like the sun after so long in the cell.

“I hope you’ve had enough time to think,” Maul said.  Ezra nodded.

As the restraints opened, Ezra sat up quickly before they could be reactivated.  He slowly opened his eyes, but kept his head down to shield them.

“What have you learned from this?” Maul asked him.

“Mercy is a lie,” Ezra muttered, the words tumbling out of his mouth.

“And?”

“I was weak.  I _am_ weak.”  Ezra’s voice broke as he said it, but he didn’t cry.  He wouldn’t.

“You don’t have to be,” Maul told him, his voice suddenly gentler, more sympathetic.

“I know,” Ezra said.  He couldn’t be.  He had to be stronger than this, be _better_ than this.  “Please help me, Master.”

“Of course I’ll help you,” Maul said, one hand gently resting on the back of Ezra’s head.  “That’s all I’m trying to do.”

That comforting touch was gone as quickly as it had come.  Maul’s hand came up under Ezra’s chin and tilted his head up until Ezra was looking at him.

“There is not a single Imperial who would hesitate to kill either of us,” Maul said.  “Neither would Sidious or Vader.  You have to be prepared to do whatever it takes, without hesitation, or you _will_ die.  Do you understand?”

“Yes, Master,” Ezra said.  “I won't hesitate again.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for: death of an unnamed character and references to past child abuse

Ezra lunged at the stormtrooper, slashing through his blaster just before he could fire a shot that would have hit Kanan in the back.  Before the trooper could get his bearings and realize what had just happened, Ezra pushed through the Force, throwing him back against the wall.  As he dropped to the ground, his foot caught in the grating at the back end of the alley and he cried out as his ankle twisted with a loud _snap._ As he fell, Ezra raised his lightsaber.

“Ezra, no!”

But it was too late.  The red blade cut through the trooper’s armor, passing through his shoulder, deep into his chest.  The trooper slumped over, his eyes still open as he died.

“Ezra!”  Someone grabbed his arm, pulling him away from the dead soldier.  Ezra wrenched himself out of the person’s grip and turned around, ready to attack, before he realized it was Kanan.

They stared at each other for a moment, Ezra trying to fight down the rush of adrenaline and the surge of anger that flared up inside him, urging him to attack, Kanan trying to process what he’d just witnessed.  Before either of them could say anything, they heard blaster fire heading in their direction.  Hera raced around the corner, nearly colliding with Kanan.

“Time to go,” she said.  Kanan nodded, still keeping his eyes on Ezra.

“Come on,” he said, the moment that had just passed between them seemingly forgotten.

When they reached the _Ghost_ , Hera split off from the two of them, rushing to the cockpit to take over for Sabine, who had fired up the ship’s engines as soon as they were on board.  Ezra was about to walk away when Kanan put a hand on his arm to stop him.

“Hang on,” he said.  He led Ezra into the galley.

“Sit down,” Kanan said once the door had closed behind him.  Ezra obeyed, slowly sinking into a seat.

“We need to talk about what happened back there,” Kanan said.

“Do we?” Ezra asked.

“Yes!” Kanan said.  “Ezra, you killed that man.”

“Yeah, I did,” Ezra said.  Kanan only stared at him, stunned by how casual Ezra was being about this.  “He was a stormtrooper, Kanan!” Ezra said.

“He was defenseless!”

“So you’re saying I shouldn’t have done it?” Ezra asked.

“That’s exactly what I’m saying!”  Kanan realized too late that his voice was rising.

“He would have killed you!” Ezra said.

“He couldn’t!” Kanan shouted.  “He didn’t have a weapon and he couldn’t even stand up!  What you did was --”

He stopped as the reality of what Ezra had done hit him.

“It was exactly what you were trained to do, wasn’t it?”

Kanan slowly sat down beside Ezra.

“When we first met,” he said, “back on Arkanis, you said that wouldn’t be your first kill.”

“I was ten,” Ezra said, answering the question Kanan had been too afraid to ask.

Hearing that, Kanan felt something twisting inside his chest.  Horror at how young Ezra had been when he’d first killed someone, anger at Maul for making him do it, quiet resignation as he realized that as terrible as it was, it didn’t surprise him in the least.  He quickly quieted those emotions, putting them aside for now.  He would deal with them later.  Right now, he had something else to focus on.

“Ezra, do you even understand what the problem is?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Ezra said.  He knew there was _a_ problem.  Kanan’s anger told him that clearly enough.  But he didn’t understand why.  He’d done what he was supposed to do.  He’d killed an enemy who wouldn’t have hesitated to kill him or Kanan if he’d had the chance.

“Are you saying Jedi don’t kill people?” he asked, a slight challenge in his voice.  He knew that wasn’t true.  He’d seen Kanan kill before, at the Spire, when he’d thrown a stormtrooper over a ledge to their death.

“Not when we don’t have to,” Kanan said.  “And not when they’re helpless.”

Ezra clenched his jaw as he remembered the first and last time he’d referred to an enemy as helpless, remembered being pinned against the wall, remembered Maul’s lightsaber at his throat, remembered the cell and the crushing, soundless darkness, remembered --

“What does it matter if he was helpless?” Ezra asked.

“It matters because --” Kanan reached for an answer that seemed so obvious, “-- because it matters.  Killing someone who is actually able to hurt you is one thing, killing someone who can't fight back is another.”

“Doesn’t seem that different to me,” Ezra said.

“Well, it is,” Kanan said.  “I know you were trained to think of it as the same thing, but it’s not.”

That answer clearly wasn’t enough for Ezra.  Kanan gave a small sigh as he tried to figure out how he could possibly explain this.  Sometimes the simplest things were the hardest to put into words.

“Ezra, strength isn’t measured by how easily you can take a life,” Kanan said.  “Sometimes the strongest thing you can do is show mercy.”

Ezra’s hands twitched as those familiar words, _mercy is a lie_ , flashed through his head.  He pressed his palms flat against his knees, hoping Kanan hadn’t noticed.

“What is it?” Kanan asked him.  Damn.  He’d noticed.

“Nothing,” Ezra said quickly.

“Ezra.”

“It’s just that he always told me the whole idea of mercy was how the weak convinced themselves they were strong,” he said, rushing the words out.  He winced.  Even _saying_ the word felt like poison on his tongue.

“Ezra, that’s…not true,” Kanan said.

“Well, how am I supposed to know?” Ezra asked.  “Maul tells me one thing and you tell me the opposite, and you both obviously believe what you’re saying.  How am I supposed to know what’s right?”

Kanan hesitated as he tried to come up with an answer that would satisfy Ezra.

“I wish I knew how to answer that,” Kanan said.  He was quiet for a moment before he spoke again, a better way to explain it to Ezra forming in his head.

“Ezra, are you serious about becoming a Jedi?” he asked.

“Yes,” Ezra said, confused by the seeming change in subject.

“Then you need to learn how to start thinking like one,” Kanan said.  “And that isn’t how we do things.  We don’t kill people who aren’t a threat, and an unarmed, injured enemy soldier isn’t a threat.”

“I understand…Master,” Ezra said.  “Or, I will.  I hope.”  His shoulders slumped as he looked down at the floor.  “I’ll try.”

He shifted where he sat, shame creeping up in his chest.

“What are you going to do?” he asked.

“Well, it’s not like I can just hand you over to the nearest trooper garrison and say ‘this kid’s a murderer,’” Kanan said, nudging Ezra’s shoulder and giving him a small smile, trying to lighten the mood.

Ezra didn’t move, but Kanan could feel nervousness, shame, and revulsion twisting around inside the kid, clawing at him.

“Ezra, I didn’t mean --”

“I am, though,” Ezra said, realizing that what Kanan said was true, even if he’d meant it as a joke.  “Aren’t I?”

The word settled in his mind like a stone rolling down a hill and coming to a stop.  Murderer.  That’s exactly what he was.  A murderer.

Ezra looked up at Kanan.

“Aren’t I?” he repeated.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” Kanan told him.

“Because it’s true,” Ezra said.

“Ezra, I doubt he gave you a choice.”

“Does that matter?” Ezra asked.

“I don’t know,” Kanan said, frustration creeping into his voice.  Ezra froze up for a second before following the emotion in Kanan’s mind and realizing it wasn’t directed at him.  “There’s not exactly a rulebook for this.  But I think it does.”

Ezra crossed his arms, not satisfied with the answer.  Didn’t that contradict everything Kanan had just told him?

“What do you want me to say, Ezra?” Kanan asked.  “Do you _want_ me to tell you you’re a monster or a bad person?  Because you’re not.”

He sighed.  “Look,” he said, “you’ve done some bad things.  I can’t deny that or ignore that, and it’s something you’re going to have to figure out how to live with.  But you were just a kid and you were alone and scared and Maul took advantage of that and turned you into something you shouldn’t have been.  I don’t know everything you’ve done, but I can see how much it weighs on you, and I think that counts for something.  It’s not too late for you.”

Ezra’s hands fell back to his sides.  What if Kanan was wrong?  He’d been Maul’s apprentice for more than five years.  Maul had been shaping him since he was a child.  What if it really _was_ too late?

“You’re not a bad person, Ezra,” Kanan continued.  “You just have some things you need to unlearn.”

“I don’t know if I can,” Ezra muttered.  He looked up at Kanan.  “I _know_ I can't do it by myself.”

“You don’t have to,” Kanan told him.  “I want to help you, but sometimes things that are obvious for me aren’t so obvious for you.  I guess we’re both on a learning curve here.”

“I guess,” Ezra muttered.  But he knew it wasn’t the same.  Kanan just had to learn how to explain supposedly obvious concepts to him and be more conscious of Ezra's past.  Ezra apparently had to unlearn everything he’d been taught.  And in spite of Kanan’s mask of confidence, he wasn’t convinced that was even possible.  But, he realized, he’d done that before, hadn’t he?  Maul had stripped away everything his parents had taught him and replaced it with a drive for vengeance by any means necessary.  If he had done that before, couldn't he do it again?

“Yeah,” Ezra said as this new realization solidified in his mind.  “I think you’re right.”

* * *

 

Hera heard Kanan’s footsteps just before the door opened and her friend entered the cockpit.

“What happened?” she asked as soon as he walked through the door.

“What makes you think something happened?” he asked her, sitting down in the copilot’s seat.

“These days, when is something _not_ happening?” Hera asked.  In reality, she knew Kanan sometimes just needed to be near her, drawing strength and steadiness from her presence.  She could usually tell when that was the case.  He _was_ her best friend, after all.  He didn’t always want to talk about it, but she always asked.  Getting him to share what was on his mind usually took prompting, even when he wanted to talk.  He was almost as bad as Sabine that way.

“Is it Ezra?” she asked, swiveling her seat to face him.  The kid was all Kanan seemed to think about lately, not that she could blame him.

Kanan nodded.  “He did something today,” he said.  “He killed a stormtrooper who couldn’t defend himself.”  He shifted in the seat, his shoulders slumping, like he’d suddenly grown tired.  “I’m worried about him, Hera.  He just didn’t care that he killed someone.  I know he was trained not to care, but --”

“Knowing it and seeing it are two different things,” Hera finished with a nod.  “You have a plan to do something about it?”

“I think I got through to him,” Kanan said.  “It’s just that he has so much to work through and this,” he gestured vaguely to their surroundings, indicating their entire situation, “what we do, what we have to face every day, it’s not exactly an ideal environment for him to be unlearning everything Maul drilled into his head.”

“I don’t think there’s any environment that could make that easy,” Hera pointed out.

“I know,” Kanan said.  “But if things were different --” he sighed.  “If things were different, there would be other Jedi to help him.  Jedi who were Masters and actually knew what they were doing.  But now…I guess I’m all he’s got.”

“ _We’re_ all he’s got,” Hera said.  “You don’t have to do this alone, Kanan.”

“Some of it I do,” Kanan pointed out.

“Not all of it,” Hera told him.  “And what you don’t have to do alone, you have all of us for.”

Without even needing to look at her, Kanan reached out and took her hand.  A warm rush like sparks of electricity passed where his skin touched hers.

“I love you,” he said, even knowing he didn’t need to say it out loud.  Hera’s grip on his hand tightened for a moment before she spoke.

“I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so I don't ship Kanan and Hera romantically at all and I see them more as queerplatonic or best friends, but I couldn't resist that shoutout to the OT


End file.
